Chapter Ninety-Seven: Deeply Scheming, Infinitely Prescient

Little Recluse gazed at Misty Cloud with deep affection, and a look of quiet relief softened into a smile. The instant their eyes met, everything seemed to freeze. Time no longer flowed, voices fell silent, light dimmed, and the noise of the world faded away. In their eyes, nothing else mattered anymore. Only their reflections remained, mirrored in two pairs of pupils, with no one and nothing able to intrude upon that tender warmth that made the heart ache sweetly.

“I knew you, little girl, were the most sensible of all,” Little Recluse murmured as he slowly walked toward Misty Cloud, then leaned down by her ear. “Sure enough, I did not misjudge you. I found myself a fine wife! I do not know how many people must be envying me now. With a clever, obedient, beautiful young lady like you, this truly is my blessing.”

“So now you finally know how good I am, and you still do not cherish me properly?” Misty Cloud pouted, speaking in a spoiled, coquettish tone. Her pitiful expression was enough to make anyone’s heart soften. Little Recluse could not help pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly. The two of them fell silent then, closing their eyes and savoring this brief warmth.

Though the sight of a fierce crimson serpent spirit wrapped around a beautiful woman did not seem harmonious at all, it strangely gave everyone a feeling of comfort. It turned out that simply because of something as small as love, one could break through so many restraints. Even Misty Cloud, who had feared such terrifying beings since childhood, no longer trembled. Instead, she opened her heart and accepted him, cared for him, and cherished him. This moved the others deeply, giving them a subtle sense of understanding and emotion.

Yet while everyone was lost in the warmth before their eyes, Little Recluse was also quietly observing the surroundings. Even after transforming into a crimson serpent spirit, that limited power could not truly bind him. He had been probing the area with his spiritual sense all along, but unfortunately, he found nothing. He could not locate the intruder the Feathered Wound had mentioned, nor detect the slightest trace of danger.

“Cough, cough. This is hardly the time for love talk. Could you two stop acting as though no one else exists? If you want to be intimate, at least pick a proper time!” Feathered Wound said, shattering the atmosphere mercilessly. He looked at Little Recluse with helpless resignation, thinking that indeed, once a person falls into love, they lose their direction.

He himself was like this, and now even Little Recluse was the same. He should have understood what those words meant. And yet he still wanted to compete with him and was speaking of love so casually at a time like this. If they kept this up, sooner or later they would be killed by the enemy hiding in the shadows. Was Little Recluse pretending not to know so the other would let down his guard, or had he simply failed to understand?

Still, after thinking it over, Feathered Wound realized he had no right to criticize him. If the woman standing here were the one he loved, he too would likely be unable to restrain himself. But he knew Little Recluse was not so lacking in judgment. He would not knowingly ignore danger and leave himself defenseless. Could this talk of affection be a feint, meant to make the opponent lose caution? Yes, that must be it. Little Recluse’s thoughts were too deep; he had no reason to let danger sprout at his side.

But if that was truly what he intended, and he still insisted on competing with him, then forcibly planting the soul essence into his body would be far too risky and careless. Although their duel would indeed be the best way to draw that person out, the old dean and so many others were here to protect them. Yet to enter this place so silently, the intruder could not be some ordinary nobody. Even so, it still felt wrong.

Feathered Wound had a very ominous premonition. Perhaps this person would be the end of his life. Though he did not know who this figure was, what abilities he possessed, or what grudge they might share, and though he did not know why such hostility was directed at him, he was certain of one thing: this person had come for trouble, and Little Recluse was also in danger. It felt as though the intruder would not rest until both of them were eliminated.

So Feathered Wound absolutely could not allow such a dangerous thing to happen. The only way to stop it was to duel Little Recluse for the time being, but he must not lose. He also had to keep watch over the surroundings at all times. If he were defeated, that person would surely strike at the most critical moment, while Little Recluse was infusing him with soul essence. If that happened, then as that man wished, he and Little Recluse would truly walk the road to the underworld together and become a pair of ghostly brothers.

“All right, you two, stop bickering. There will be plenty of time later for the two of you to fight it out properly. For now, there are still other matters to handle. Master, we have already stated our choices. What about you? Whom will you choose?” Though Cold Memory sensed that something was off between the two, his mind was entirely on this wager. He had too much on his plate already and no time to worry about anything else.

“Do I even need to ask? Since we are all betting that Little Recluse will win, then Master must certainly be betting that Brother Feathered Wound will prevail,” said Cloud Drifter carelessly from the side, as though it were all unnecessary to say. Yet when he realized the speaker was his senior brother, he swallowed the rest of the jab back down. Still, he was rather curious that even his senior brother, who had always paid little heed to worldly affairs, could be so deeply bound by something.

“You arrogant little brat who always thinks himself clever, you guessed wrong today. Your master will also bet on this little serpent to win,” the old dean said with a chuckle, stroking his snowy beard. His expression seemed to mock everyone for never being able to fathom his thoughts, while he alone could always know what they were thinking. No wonder it would feel so terrible to stand exposed before this old fox.

“How can that be? What kind of wager is this supposed to be?” Dreaming Far Away could not help asking. She truly had not expected her grandfather’s choice to be so baffling. If everyone’s answer now pointed toward the same person, then what wager was left? What was there even to bet on? But after a moment’s thought, she realized her grandfather would never do something so pointless. Could there be something here that she had failed to see?

“Why can I not do this? I gave you the freedom to choose, so why should you now try to bind me instead? If that were the case, it would be far too unfair,” the old dean said, keeping his gaze fixed on Feathered Wound as he spoke, a strange cold smile playing at his lips. It was the look of a hunter facing prey already within reach, the smug satisfaction of a scheme succeeding. Feathered Wound suddenly felt as though he had been manipulated.

“That may be true, but if Master chooses this way, then should the rules not be changed again? If Little Recluse truly wins, then both sides would have wagered correctly. How, then, would we decide the outcome?” Blue String asked softly.

Though he could not yet be certain of his conclusion, he was probably very close to the truth. Right now, he only hoped he was mistaken.

“If the final result truly turns out that way, then my wager with you will cancel itself out, and I will take back the condition I asked you to agree to earlier. But do not forget—there is still one person whose answer is entirely different from all of yours,” the old dean said, his smile growing even more chilling. It made everyone feel as though he were a sly old fox and they, nothing more than a group of helpless white rabbits.

“I will not forget. That person is me, is he not? Dean, just say it plainly. If I lose the bet, what happens? And if I win?” Feathered Wound gave a faint, disdainful smile and asked. So this old man’s true target was him after all. Fortunately, it was only him. He had no attachments, so he could be asked to do anything. The others were different; they had far too much they could not let go of, and should not have to bear any more burdens.

“If you lose, then you will do one thing for me. Unlike the previous matters, you may not refuse, you may not fail to do it, and you may only accept it in silence. You must also give me a satisfactory answer. If you win, then you may do as you please. I will not object. I will even support you with all my strength!” It seemed the old dean had truly steeled himself, to the point of saying something so unfavorable to him.

“This is completely unfair. If you make him climb mountains of knives or plunge into seas of fire, does Brother Feathered Wound still have to do it? How is that any different from sending him to his death?” Cloud Walker frowned and said with some irritation. As he had suspected, this old man really did have an objective. He had simply not expected the target to be Feathered Wound. Clearly, whatever the old man wanted him to do would not be easy, or he would not have chosen him.

“One must accept defeat when gambling. There is no such thing as fairness at the gambling table. If anything is to be blamed, blame your own bad luck and lack of strength. Otherwise, how could you have lost? Do not blame anyone else,” the old dean said suddenly, his tone merciless. Even the smile on his face vanished, replaced by a cold and stern expression. It seemed everyone had been pushed into a difficult corner. The old fox had truly become serious.

“I understand. From the very beginning, you were plotting against this brat, but you deliberately set up a maze to make us think you were targeting everyone, so that we would lower our guard. You really have calculated everything to the last step, old fox. You were circling around to scheme against this brat all along. Tell us, what exactly is it you want him to do?” Little Recluse finally lost some of his composure. What he hated most was anyone harming Feathered Wound.

If this brat truly fell into such a trap and could not escape, then he would have no choice but to jump in with him. In any case, he would never allow him to face this old fox alone. Otherwise, if there were the slightest lapse, who knew whether he would be ruined by that man? He wanted to see what this old fox was talking about. At worst, he would do it for the brat himself. After all, there were not many things in this world that could truly trouble a crimson serpent spirit.

“Since all of you have seen through it and know perfectly well that I am only scheming against this one brat, why would I tell you that matter?” The old dean no longer paid attention to the others. Turning around, he asked Feathered Wound in a solemn voice, “Feathered Wound, you decide for yourself. Do you accept this wager? Dare you bear the consequences if you lose?”

“I am already standing at the edge of a cliff. Do I still have the right to say no? Fine, I will bet you on this once. Besides, I do not believe the one who loses in the end will be me,” Feathered Wound said, though trapped in a snare, his pride remained undiminished. Yet that pride did not make him unpleasant. On the contrary, it inspired respect. Sometimes, backbone was something one could not afford to lose.

“Good. That kind of spirit and confidence is exactly what I like. Then let us see who will truly have the last laugh. But little serpent, do not try any tricks. Use your real ability. Otherwise, if you cheat, you will regret the consequences,” the old dean said with a smile restored, speaking softly to Feathered Wound and Little Recluse. Yet the calmness of his tone carried a formidable pressure.